


Beat of the Heart

by diaphanous87



Series: The Many Ships of Tilly [20]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Fluff, Getting Together, Lancer Quest spoilers, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), No beta we die like mne, Slight Violence, a realm reborn, just throwing this out here b/c I said it's done, rarepair madness, slight aftermath of violence, the author indulges herself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24133705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diaphanous87/pseuds/diaphanous87
Summary: Seven beats of the heart, seven insights into the beginning of Tilly's relationship with Foulques of the Mist. And the course of destiny is changed for it.
Relationships: Elezen Characters/Miqo'te Characters (Final Fantasy XIV), Foulques/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: The Many Ships of Tilly [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536589
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	Beat of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hewwo?! 
> 
> This thing on? *taps mic*
> 
> Hey y'all! I'm a little bit back! Maybe? Have a fic! I'm off to do something else now since the muse for this fic finally decided it was considered done.

** Beat of the Heart **

* * *

_One_

Fuchsia colored hair flew back from the air rushing toward her face. A spear tip was aimed for right between her eyes. But her spring green gaze did not waver from the elezen before her. The shouts of the other lancers in the guild were nothing but white noise. The towering elezen smirked, interest sparking on his gray face.

“This one has potential,” the duskwight said, flicking his spear away. Smoothing down his white hair, he went on to say something about fools and cravens before strutting out. She watched him leave, ears perked forward and tail tip twitching. But he didn’t come back.

Tilly hummed, letting Ywain’s lecture wash over her like the brief rains of a Thanalan winter. No, she hadn’t been afraid. Far from it. Instead she was… curious. The miqo’te tilted her head at the guildmaster as if in agreement to not seek the man out. She had no intention of actually not doing so.

After all, Tilly didn’t actually promise.

* * *

_Two_

It would appear he had sought her out first, much to Tilly’s chagrin. His narrow pink eyes were sharp, wild. This elezen, who finally introduced himself as Foulques, mocked the trial Ywain had set before her.

“Find the true Stone of Courage,” he said, spitting the last word. He grinned viciously. “True courage can only be found in the midst of danger! We’ll see how courageous you actually are, little kitten.” Foulques laughed and disappeared from sight.

  
Kitten? Oh, now that was not to be borne, it didn’t matter how handsome he was. Tilly sniffed in an offended manner. Spirithold was the place then. Tilly pocketed the fake stone and placed her spear in the magnetic holster on her back. She bounded down Naked Rock on nimble feet.

* * *

_Three_

This boy was on her shit list. What a hot headed fool, how easily baited. Tilly dumped the unconscious moron off into the care of the Wood Wailers at Hawthorne. Her shoulder still ached from where the angered elm had snuck in a hit. She summoned up a bit of cooling aether; the half remembered lessons at the Conjurers Guild were handy. The magic sank into her skin past her clothes. Tilly sighed in relief, rolling the shoulder she had healed. Good, it was fine.

Onward to Lifemend and another of Foulques’ so-called lessons. She wasn’t quite sure why she was entertaining his ideas. Curiosity always was her weak point. Kitten, indeed. Her sire would have tweaked her ears for indulging in such a dangerous thing. But her sire was dead, so it didn’t matter now.

Tilly crossed into the Central Shroud, toward the waterfall that hid the way to Lifemend. A path led upward behind the raging waters. And once again her gaze landed upon the tall duskwight who beckoned her forward. Her ears flicked. If only he was beckoning her for something else… But Tilly knocked that line of thinking away. Besides the howls of wolves were echoing in the air, led by the alpha Foulques would have her kill.

* * *

_Four_

A healing burn from Ifrit’s fires was still along her back and shoulders. Tilly breathed through the pain. Her patience for Ywain’s lessons on courage was nearly gone, his words were chafing. Who was he to speak to her of courage? He hadn’t had to slay a god recently. None in the guild could say that they had save for her. The back of one her ears was still missing a patch of fur, burned clear off. Her ribs still ached from a godly backhand. Bandages hiding claw marks covered her left bicep beneath her chainmail and leather. Her hair was shorter, the burnt ends trimmed by Y’shtola and her steady hands.

Gods, Tilly was exhausted, ears and tail drooping.

But Ywain wouldn’t have heard excuses from her, this she knew. He didn’t even notice her pain or tiredness. He just kept talking. This newest lesson wasn’t going to be put on hold. She shouldn’t have come. She should have stayed at the Waking Sands to finish healing. Instead she came back to the guild, was forced to trounce some senior lancers (ow she hurt), and was being talked at again. Always with the talking. She had to force herself to pay attention. She didn’t like what she heard however.

Now the guildmaster wanted Tilly to fight some giant boar by killing its brethren, yanking out their tusks, and letting the scent of their blood and pain summon it from hiding. Which was kind of fucked up but Tilly was too tired to care.

A bell later Tilly was in the East Shroud, nearly wheezing. She didn’t notice Foulques glance at her in brief concern. She slew her fourth boar and nearly stumbled to her knees. The miqo’te stabbed her spear downward to steady herself. She braced herself up against the shaft. The boar’s pair of tusks were waiting but gods, she didn’t want to touch them. This was wrong. Wasteful. Four boars could have fed her whole village for three moons.

“Oi, what are you doing? Have you given up?” Foulques jogged to her side. He scowled. But there was a softness around his eyes. He reached out, his gauntlet covered fingers stroking her bruised cheek. “That’s not from a boar.” The elezen bent forward over her to examine her more closely. He snarled upon spotted the livid bald patch on her ear. “What is this?” Foulques tipped up her chin. He noted her tired eyes and the new scar at her jawline. A peek down the back of her chainmail and tunic showed a hint of burns. “Who did this to you? Speak their names!”

Tilly blinked back tears. Oh, someone had noticed. That it was Foulques who did.... She smiled, lips trembling. “Amalj’aa. Ifrit. A week ago,” she managed to say. Her breathing grew labored. She began to slump while on her feet. Strong hands gently gripped her by the back of her arms. She hissed in pain, the touch retreating in haste.

“Ifrit?!” Foulques’ voice reached an interesting pitch. But then his tone changed, became more commanding. A captain’s voice if she had ever heard one. “This trial is over,” he announced. “You should have never come out here in this state. What other injuries are you hiding?”

“Not the boss of me.”

“I am now, woman!” The duskwight narrowed his eyes, the pink irises dark with anger. “Blasted guildmaster! Oblivious and uncaring as ever!” And with a gentleness she hadn’t known he was capable of, Foulques scooped her up into his arms. His scowl deepened when she cried out in pain. Her hands clutched at her ribs as she curled up against his chest. “Matron bless, kitten. Easy.” Shifting Tilly around to free one of his hands, he pulled her spear from the ground. “I cannot believe this… damn that Ywain… what kind of guildmaster…” He continued to complain as he carried her away deep into the forest.

Several bells later, in the hopes of checking on Tilly’s progress, Ywain appeared in the Bramble Patch. But all he found was only a few tusks and a dead boar by the small pile. Tilly was nowhere in sight. The Lord of the Bramble edged out of the tree line to nose at his murdered kin before lumbering off.

“Tilly!” Ywain shouted. “Tilly, where are you?” Oh Matron, he had lost her. He had lost his most promising lancer in a decade!

* * *

_Five_

Tilly let out a little scream of agony, the pain flaring sharp and undeniable. Urianger was going to bop her on the head when he found out that his work had been coming undone because she had been unnecessarily fighting…

“Shh, shh, it’s alright,” Foulques soothed awkwardly, hands trembling as he helped rewrap the bandages around her ribs. He forced himself not to stare at Tilly’s chest or to marvel at her smooth skin. A smoothness marred by half-healed burns and claw marks on her arms. “Gods preserve, how did you survive a primal?” He paused. “How are you not a slave to a primal?!”

“An ability…” Tilly wheezed. She whimpered as the bandage ends were firmly tucked in and plastered. “An ability called the Echo, it protects my mind from…. Fuck! It keeps me from being Tempered.” The miqo’te hissed as a poultice was applied to her upper back where the burns were still healing. “Can’t be learned. And I see things, visions. It’s awful.”

“Bloody hells.” The elezen wiped his hands clean. “You’ll not be leaving my sight, woman. You obviously can’t be trusted to keep yourself in one piece.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“Hush.” Foulques surveyed his meagre camp, thankful that his fellow lancer was an adventurer with the appropriate first aid supplies in their adventurer’s armiger. He certainly wouldn’t have had the bandages or poultices for her otherwise. Someone, a friend from those Scions perhaps, had loaded her up with everything needed. But they also hadn’t kept her with them to finish her healing. Unless his companion had wheedled and wriggled her way out of it. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had.

It was strange. He hadn’t really thought about the guild or his revenge once he had found out Tilly’s severe injuries and had heard the story of how she had ended up fighting a primal of all things. Somehow it had ceased to be important. What was the version of courage Ywain preached in the face of a god and its deadly claws? And what was the version of courage Foulques himself promoted? Nothing but a pale imitations.

To face a god and stand your ground. To win against said god, at any cost. Foulques felt foolish in comparison. It made him angry but also he felt awe. This tiny miqo’te girl, surely only twenty or so summers, had done the unbelievable. In the face of such adversity, he could only bow his head. Foulques knew he would have ran. Or died horrifically. Or worse still, Tempered and enslaved like the Immortal Flames squad captured with Tilly. The thought filled him with fear and dread. Such a fate.

“Thank you,” Tilly said, pulling Foulques back to reality. Through her pain, she was smiling at him. Her green eyes shone bright in the dappled afternoon sun coming through the treetops. “Thank you for helping me. For noticing.”

“A man takes care of his partner,” Foulques grumbled, showing the person he used to be before. He jerked his head to the side so avert his gaze. A dusky pink blush colored the tips of his pointed ears.

“A partner? Like a dance partner?”

The question took him off guard and Foulques whipped around to stare at Tilly. “What?” he croaked. The imagining of Tilly in a dancer’s revealing outfit flashed through his mind. He nearly squawked in outrage and embarrassment. Oh no.

Tilly nodded, reaching up to tap her pointer finger against her pursed lips. She didn’t notice his gaze drifting down to stare at the motion. “That reminds me… that war dancer troupe, their leader invited me to learn their art. Maybe I should pick that up instead. Put some distance between me and my opponents. And it looks like fun! But I’ll need a dance partner.”

“You’re still healing!” Foulques protested, rattled still by the thought of her as a dancing girl. Gods strike him down!

“So?”

“What did I say about keeping you in one piece?!”

“Then I guess you’ll have to come with me to Limsa Lominsa!”

Freezing, Foulques gaped at her. Leave the Twelveswood…? The thought had never crossed his mind. “Limsa Lominsa?” he parroted in shock. “You would travel with me?”

“Sure!” Tilly winced as she shifted on the bedroll where she was sitting. Or well, where the elezen had plopped her down. She had a feeling this was his bedroll and she resisted the urge to flop onto it. Her ribs would have hated her if she did. “Being dance partners would make us stronger together! Doesn’t it sound nice?”

“Nice?!”

“And no more Ywain and his dumb lectures about courage!” Which would be a relief, if Tilly was being honest with herself. The man was getting repetitive and her attention span and patience were only so long.

That incentive made Foulques pause and reconsider his protests. “You would leave the guild?” he wondered.

“Oh yes. I’ll keep practicing, of course. But I’m an adventurer! I go where I want, do what I want, and no one can stop me as long as I follow the three basics: no stealing, no senseless murder, and no sex with married people!” Tilly coughed a laugh when he sputtered at the last thing. “Easy, right?”

“Right…”

“So what do ya say? Come with me to Limsa and be my partner? And together we’ll keep learning and growing stronger.” Her lips stretched into a hopeful smile, ears perked forward in anticipation.

“Don’t you… don’t you have remembrance ceremonies to get to?” Foulques felt a bead of sweat drip down the back of his neck. “And a Grand Company to join?”

“Well… yes. But I wasn’t going to join the Twin Adders anyway. Shh, don’t tell.” Tilly held her finger to her lips, a nasty light in her eyes. “Stuffy, the whole lot. Oh for Wood and Gridania, blah blah blah, we’re really racist, worse than Ul’dah, and will whisper derogatory cat names behind your back and slut shame you for being a miqo’te. We will call you poachers and whores and thieves all.” She sat back, anger chasing away her aches. “I feel sorry for my Keeper cousins for putting up with it. I only had to put up with it for only seven moons since I became an adventurer. No wonder so many of them join the Coeurlclaws. At least then they’re together with their prides. Even if the so called Coeurl King is gross. What is one male, eh?” She grinned, short fangs flashing.   
  
“Duskwights too,” Foulques muttered, a spark of rage coming to life in him. “We’ve suffered the same. And the fact that many of my brethren are driven to banditry and thieving just adds fuel to the fire. As I once did, to feed myself, only to be punished when no one else stepped forward with me… But what of Limsa? Surely it is no utopia.”

“Well, no. But it is a place that values freedom above all else. And it is warm and sunny, best place for basking.” Tilly clapped. “How about this? We sneak in to listen to Kan-E-Senna sprout some poetic bullshit about the fallen and unity, whatever, and then we book it to Limsa for the ceremony there. And I pick up those chakrams and war dancer lessons and you join the Adventurers Guild? And then Ul’dah, I guess. Ugh.”

“Hmm.” Foulques eyed her eager face.

Tilly clasped her hands together. “Please, please, please! I bet we’ll have so much fun!” Her tail wagged hesitantly

Foulques sighed. “Fine. Someone has to keep an eye on you and apparently I’m the only one capable of doing so. How unfortunate,” he huffed.

“Yay!” Tilly threw her hands up in the air in celebration only to squeal and hunch over. “Ouch…”

“Stop wriggling! By the gods, woman!”

* * *

_Six_

Foulques leaned against the stone wall near the Maelstrom headquarters. Cheers erupted as his new partner was enlisted into the Grand Company of Limsa Lominsa. Though they had offered a place for him too when he was introduced as her partner, he had turned it down. Never again would Foulques be a part of martial organization. He had been burned enough times, thank you. And the elezen knew she was only enlisting to cover her ass as the slayer of Ifrit.

Enemies would be appearing at the gates sooner rather than later, best to have some allies. The Antecedent of the Scions had been right about that.

A small smile appeared on his face as Tilly bounced out of headquarters in her brand new, bright red uniform. It clashed horribly with her fuchsia hair and the fuchsia fur of her leonine tail. He shouldn’t find it so charming. “Hello, Private First Class Lucian,” he drawled in amusement. She really had healed well on their boat ride to Limsa because she was dancing around without care. Her long tail was happily curved upward as she wiggled in place. Her dancer chakrams gleamed in the bright sunlight at her hips.

“Just Ma’tylda if you want to be formal. Which, please, don’t be. Tilly is perfect between us, okay?” Tilly grinned from beneath the bill of her hat. “Looks good, huh?”

“Not with your hair and fur color.”

“Rude!”

Foulques laughed aloud when she stuck out her tongue at him. Was this what it was like to be so free? Free from the solemn formality of Gridania? From the prejudice and heated gossip? Free from the whims of the Elementals? It was a good feeling that he had never known before. He reached out to snag the front of her uniform to reel her in. She giggled when she thumped against the front of his armor. Foulques caught her Maelstrom hat as it tumbled from her head. His fingers curled around the chin strap. Her ears wriggled in their freedom. The miqo’te looked so happy to see him. Him, of all people! What madness.

“You’re mad, kitten,” he said, the nickname no longer derogatory but affectionate instead. The weeks of traveling from the Central Shroud to Vesper Bay with her had changed something between them. Tilly had opened up to him and he to her. And when they had stopped at the remnants of her village, decimated by the Calamity in Eastern Thanalan, Foulques had learned the truth of why she was alone. Similar stories were abundant across Eorzea. Yet with her it had been personal to hear.

Such loneliness and still she kept smiling, kept moving forward. Holding out her hand for him to take without regret. What courage indeed. No wonder she hadn’t been afraid of him when he first aimed a spear at her head. Unflinching in the face of adversity. Tilly could have ripped him apart at her leisure but still she indulged him. Had stuck by his side like horn glue and stubborn as an aldgoat.

Foulques had never been chosen by anyone before, not like this.

“Hey, you awake?” Tilly reached up to cup his gray cheeks, once again bringing him back from being inside his head. His pink eyes refocused on her. “There you are, Foulques. Hi.” She smoothed her hand down to his chest.

“Hi.”

“Daydreaming?”

“Something like that…” He noted that she was still against him on her tiptoes. He wrapped his arms around her, curving his taller form over the woman pressed against him. The Maelstrom hat swayed still in his grip. “Why?” Foulques whispered against her feline ear.

Tilly hummed a confused noise. “Why what?” she asked, huddling against his warmth. Her tail swished. The miqo’te tapped her hands against his chestplate. His jawline was right at her forehead, she wanted to nuzzle… Tilly gave in and tilted her face up to do it, reveling in the breathy sound he made. “Foulques?” she whispered against his throat.

“We’re… we’re in public!” he hissed.

“We’re not having sex… at least, not yet.”

Foulques made a noise like a teakettle over-boiling. Tilly laughed deep in her throat, a husky and teasing sound. He growled and nipped at the base of her ear. He smirked when she squeaked. Her tail whapped at his hip. “Behave, Ma’tylda,” he warned in a mocking voice.

“Make me.” Her full lips curved into a wicked smile, green eyes glinting.

A challenge? Very well. The elezen moved his hand up to gently gripe the waves of fuchsia hair at the back of her head. He bent down to kiss her, lips moving against hers. His white bangs mingled with her dark pink locks. He felt her wrap her arms around his shoulders to tug him closer. Had their encounters and new partnership really led to all of this? Was it all a fever dream? But the taste of her, mint and sugar, told him no as her lips parted for his tongue to deepen the kiss. He felt the scrape of her short fangs on his lower lip, thrilling in its promise of pain and pleasure at their sharp points.

“There’s a celebratory kiss and then there’s a kiss about to lead to tupping. I do not think this one is the former,” said an unwelcome voice. Foulques jerked away from Tilly in surprise, mouths parting in haste. Tilly mewled her protest but let him straighten up as she sank back down to flat feet against the cobblestone. Admiral Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn hid her smile at the truly vicious glare thrown her way by the duskwight lancer in her newest recruit’s embrace. “Private Lucian.”

“Admiral Bloefhiswyn,” Tilly rasped, saluting as she turned around to face her. “Good afternoon, ma’am.” They both ignored the fact that the miqo’te’s black lip paint was smeared, a bit coloring her partner’s lips. Merlwyb just saluted her back with a wink. Tilly tried not to die on the spot. Foulques crossed his arms, face turned aside and red beneath the gray tone.

“Hm, yes, a very good afternoon it seems.” The tall Sea Wolf woman coughed. “I had come to personally thank you for joining our ranks, Private. Though it appears that you are… occupied.”

“Ma’am.”

“In any event, thank you for the honor and may we continue to serve our fair city of Limsa Lominsa together.” Merlwyb nodded at her. “Until sea swallows all.”

“Until sea swallows all,” Tilly parroted back, saluting again. When the other woman saluted back and left, she sagged back against Foulques. “Oh my gods, that was so…”

“Embarrassing.”

“Yes.”

“We should go now.”

“Definitely.”

* * *

_Seven_

“This whole thing is already growing tiresome,” Foulques said. He huffed when Tilly laughed softly. “Though I have to admit... the irony of poaching an egg from these swamps that I once patrolled as a Wailer is almost amusing.” The elezen deposited the giant tortoise egg into his partner’s arms. “But I will not stick around for you to hand it over. Unfortunately my being a Duskwight will probably give the game away.”

“Which is stupid,” Tilly grumbled, clutching the infertile egg to her chest. How she had been able to tell, Foulques wasn’t quite sure. “Everything is so stupid.”

Laughing, Foulques tweaked the tip of one her ears. He delighted at the way she snapped her teeth playfully at him. “I shall meet you in Drybone,” he said, nimbly dodging her half-hearted kick aimed at his shin.

“Okay! Be safe! I love you!” And, without waiting for him to get his bearings after being told those three words, Tilly dashed off.

“... _oh_.” Foulques felt his face heat up. He stared blindly in the direction she had run. He stumbled, catching himself by slamming his forearm to the trunk of a tree, fingers curling into a fist. His other hand was at his hip. He bowed his head, facing the tree and wheezing. Damn her. Damn her for throwing him so off kilter with just one sentence! Foulques laughed in disbelief and elation. Because he knew, Ma’tylda Lucian did not lie, couldn’t to save her life. The words seemed to echo in his long, pointed ears on repeat, the sweet sound of her voice ringing bright and happy.

_I love you! I love you! I love you..._

What was this feeling? Why did his face feel so stretched? Ah... he was smiling so widely like some lovesick fool. But it wasn’t a bad thing? Nay, Foulques felt lighter than air. Letting out another giddy giggle, how embarrassing, the towering elezen swayed and shambled out of the swamp toward Eastern Thanalan.

Foulques would meet her in Drybone as promised. And he would say the words back. He swore it. And he did, much to her delight. Tilly made his ribs creak from how hard she embraced him, eyes shining bright. Her ears were wiggling in a blurry as the miqo'te sang her delight. And as he gathered her in his arms, the duskwight swore to her to never leave her side and she said the words right back.

It would be the closest they would get to marriage vows for years but neither minded. Foulques and Tilly would do all that they could to stay with one another. And they did; through bloody banquets, wars with dragons and bishops, double revolutions, and struggling to save both the First and the Source. Foulques was absolutely thankful for the fact that at least Tilly could go back and forth between their home world and that Shard. Though he still hated working with Estinien and bloody fucking Gaius Baelsar...

* * *

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Tap that kudos button and/or leave a comment if you like! Love ya, bye!


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